


Dress Up

by avianbrother



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Gen, Stealing Dante's clothes for fun, nico is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avianbrother/pseuds/avianbrother
Summary: Dante left his clothes out. Hilarity ensues.
Relationships: Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero & Nico (Devil May Cry), Nero & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 144





	Dress Up

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that one scene in Teen Titans where everyone tries on Robin's outfit.

Nico pressed her whole weight against the door, the wood scraping against the frame and the hinges creaking loudly from how off-kilter they were. She stepped into the Devil May Cry shop and shut the door behind her with a firm kick. She wrinkled her nose as she surveyed the wreckage.

The demons that had stormed the place weren’t strong fellas, but they had the numbers to tear the place apart, leaving chunks of ceiling on the floor and tearing holes in the wall. A couple of the water pipes had burst in the scuffle, because Dante had no understanding of the words “damage control,” which ended up flooding half the shop. The crew was picking up as many jobs as possible to pay for the repairs, but in the meantime, they’d be going without running water.

“Mister Dante?” Nico called. The lights were on, but the man wasn’t at his desk. She poked around, tucking the case with Ebony and Ivory under her arm. The poor girls had seen better days, and Dante had been nice enough to let her take them off his hands, get them cleaned and fixed up while he tried to salvage the rest of his belongings. Spending some quality time with the girls was a fair trade for getting roped into doing repair work on the shop.

Nico went upstairs, knocking on the bedroom door. “Dante?” No answer. She felt a flutter in her gut at the thought that this was his actual room. He wasn’t home, and it was terribly rude and Nel raised her better than that but…a little peek wouldn’t hurt, would it? Before her conscience could stop her (and really, when had it ever stopped her?), she went inside.

It was…well, kinda dirtier than she thought it would be, but her focus was on the additional devil arms hung on display, and the various knick-knacks and demon doodads from his many hunts. Oh, the things she could learn studying these babies. Maybe if she put together something nice for him, he’d let her borrow them for a day or two (or a week). Nico set Ebony and Ivory on the bed, giving the case a loving pat. As she looked up, she noticed a row of clothes strung on a line.

Five red jackets, a few pants, and some tops had been left out to dry. Now that she thought of it, Dante had complained about all the laundry that needed doing. She never asked how he, Vergil, or Nero got demon blood out of everything. Were there specialty cleaners for demon guts? Now _that_ was a market opportunity.

They really were nice outfits, Nico thought. Edgy and flashy, too much for most people, but they suited him. One set caught her eye, a red coat next to a pair of chaps and a black vest. The cowboy boot detailing at the bottom of the pants was what sold it for her.

She checked over her shoulder. She ran a hand over the rich leather.

“Nobody has to know.”

***

It was big on her, Dante was built like a brick shithouse so of course it would be, but it was still stylin’. Nico grinned and swished the back of the coat like a cape. The pants were scrunched up at her feet and it wasn’t doing her ass any favors, but she filled the vest nicely (those Sparda boys were blessed with ample tiddy-pecs, that’s for sure). She winked at her reflection in the bedroom mirror, drawing imaginary guns like it was an old western shootout.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart,” she said to herself.

“Yeah, I’ll say.”

Nico froze. Lady leaned against the doorframe while Trish stood behind her, giving Nico an appreciative once-over. Nico looked at them with the same wide-eyed terror of a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Or a sibling who knows they just gave ample blackmail material. Really, a death sentence either way.

“Uh, I-I can explain—”

“No need,” said Trish, moving past Lady to circle around Nico, who had never been so terrified yet confusingly turned on by someone else’s stare. Trish came to a stop in front of her, hummed softly and tapped her chin with a finger. “It’s missing something.”

“Needs the hat,” said Lady. “If you’re going tacky cowboy, you have to commit to it. But seriously, I think you’re the only other person who could pull it off.”

Trish scoffed. “As if Dante ever did?”

An idea formed in Nico’s head, lips curling into a Cheshire grin. “There’s only one way to find out.” The two women cocked their heads in questioning. Nico gestured to the other outfits like they were gameshow prizes. “Come on, you aren’t gonna let me have all the fun, are ya?”

Trish and Lady looked at each other, then back at her.

“We’re in.”

***

Lady flipped her hair and adjusted the high collar of the coat. She had given up on fitting the odd strap across her chest, yanking the zipper of the coat down to feel less claustrophobic. It was hard to believe Dante had ever worn things this tight and stuffy.

She shrugged. “Eh, could be better.” She glanced at Trish. “What about you?”

Trish wore a buckled vest that fit her about as well as her own top did, keeping up her usual seductive air. She fiddled with the leg straps and checked herself out in the mirror. She didn’t care for the look, had chosen it out of sentimentality. It was fun though, playing with Dante’s things. “I think Nico is still the winner here.”

Lady nodded in agreement and Nico beamed.

There was a commotion downstairs that made them all pause, someone coming into the shop and heavy footfalls.

“Yo, Dante! You back yet?” shouted Nero, followed by softer grumbling of how messy the place was and, goddamn, would it kill him to open a window and let the smell out?

The trio looked at one another and silently reached the same conclusion. They tip-toed out, watching him set down his gear. His senses weren’t as sharp as the elder Sparda twins, yet he was still quick to spin around, hands twitching towards his weapons as he gazed up to see the women peering over the railing at him.

He was struck silent for a moment.

“What. The fuck?” He scratched the back of his head, nose crunching in confusion. Nico gave him that shit-eating grin that he knew meant trouble and he rolled his eyes. _Of course_ this was her fault. “Nico, what are you doing?”

“Just having a lil’ fun while the boss man is out. Me and the girls are playing dress-up, want in?”

Nero scoffed. “ _No_. And get out of that, you don’t know where it’s been.”

He already had enough trouble adjusting to the fact Dante was his uncle, he didn’t want to put on his shit and deal with the visual similarities that had staring him in the face for five years that he had been too dumb to notice.

Nico realized where his mind was headed and wanted to nip that in the bud before it turned into full-blown moping, so she made for the stairs. Trish beat her to the punch, vaulting over the railing and landing primly in front of Nero. “What if we weren’t asking?”

His eyes went wide. Then he tisked. “You wouldn’t,” he said, calling their bluff. Trish held the act for a second or two before her expression softened.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t.” She gave him a light pat on the shoulder and turned on her heel. “But _you_ could loosen up. A little playtime won’t kill you, kid.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped. He thought about it, his gaze drifting to the door so he wouldn’t have to meet their eyes as he scratched his nose and muttered, “Yeah, okay.”

Nico whooped in victory. “That’s my lil’ crybaby.”

He snapped to glare at her and added, “But _only_ for a minute! Got it?”

“Whatever you say,” she snickered.

***

They had tried teasing and pressuring him into trying on Dante’s oldest coat, with its single strap to cover his bare chest, but Nero refused to budge. After a while, Nero’s face twisting into a grimace and the twitches of his right hand was evidence enough that there were some body image issues and maybe leftover religious guilt going on, and they knew better than to push the idea. He settled on Dante’s current coat, didn’t bother trying on the rest of the outfit despite the many spare shirts and pants lying around to complete it.

He studied himself in the mirror, an odd, too vulnerable expression on his face that made the others fall silent. It was roomy in the shoulders, made for a bulkiness he hadn’t grown into yet, though he wore it well all the same.

“Now show us your best Dante impression,” said Nico, trying to lighten the mood. The comment broke Nero out of his trance, and he met her smug mug with his own.

“My ego isn’t big enough,” he said.

“Come ooon, try it,” egged Lady, sitting cross-legged next to Trish on the bed and enjoying the show.

Nero sighed and shook his head, but slipped into character, putting on his best Dante swagger, as cocky as he could make himself be as he blew kisses and winked at the mirror.

“Boo! You can do better than that,” said Lady.

“You ain’t even doing the smolder right,” added Nico. Nero looked over his shoulder at her and frowned.

“Yeah I am, shut up.”

“Nu-uh.”

“Fuck off.”

“ _Make me_ —”

Trish cut her off with a gentle yet menacing hand on her thigh. Nico’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click. Trish nodded for Nero to continue.

Nero walked to a chair and flopped into it, lazily propping his feet on a nearby stack of Dante’s stuff. “Uuuugh, I’m tired,” he said, sounding almost like Dante, “I just want to eat pizza and play air guitar all day.”

Lady snickered and Nico covered her mouth to keep her giggles at bay. Nero snatched a magazine from off the floor and dropped it on his face, leaning his head back and snoring loudly.

Nero didn’t know how Dante did those flame hearts he’s seen him make, so instead Nero summoned his spectral wings and made the claws come together to form a heart. He grinned under the magazine when the women burst into laughter at his antics. He stood and took a bow, spectral claws clasped together and shaking in cheer. “Thank you, thank you! I’ll be here all week.”

A sudden shift in the air stopped the act. It was soft, like a sigh or gentle brushing of fabric. Judging by her expression, Trish sensed it too. Nico and Lady realized a second later when the telltale sound of Yamato being sheathed came from the office.

***

It was quiet, abnormally so, considering the presence Vergil could detect upstairs. He stepped over the debris piled in the lobby and tossed an envelope on Dante’s desk, payment from the job he finished. If he focused, he could catch hushed whispers, though he couldn’t tell what was being said and they died off too quickly. He considered whether he should join them, if he’s even welcome. Being kept under Dante and Nero’s watchful eye was difficult enough most days, now he had to play nice while everyone was coming and going and rattling around with repairs (nevermind that Dante should’ve fixed the shop _years_ ago).

He saw Eva’s portrait on the desk, her motherly gaze meeting his. He sighed and nodded.

Whispers started up again as he climbed the stairs, which turned to clattering and a smacking sound and raised voices as he neared Dante’s bedroom, but before he could reconsider his decision, he reached the threshold and caught them tangled together—Nero trying to shove Nico into a closet while she shoved her hand into his face and Lady tugged on his collar as if to strip him or throw him across the room (or maybe both). Trish, meanwhile, sat on the edge of the bed and filed her nails, completely unbothered by the scene.

And they were all wearing Dante’s clothes.

They froze at his arrival.

Vergil said nothing, only made a noise of disbelief.

Lady scowled, releasing her grip on Nero, who in turn, let go of Nico. She fell back on her ass, shooting a glare at Nero and kicking him in the shin. He was too focused on Vergil to notice, face flushed in embarrassment but stuck in that angry, punkish pout of his.

Vergil took note of their attire and the remaining clothes on the line and put two and two together.

“Ah.”

Somehow that single syllable was enough to set Lady off, who whipped out a gun and aimed it at his head. “Don’t you say another word, you pompous ass.”

Nero rolled his eyes. “ _Really?_ Put it away, will ya?”

“Fine,” she sighed, holstering her gun in favor of helping Nico up. “Party’s over anyways.”

Vergil hummed, ignoring the jab. He walked around the room, examining his brother’s things before turning his attention to the last outfit left hanging. He smirked, grasping the hem of the coat, feeling the material between his fingers then flicking it away with a scoff.

“Of course this one is left. Only Dante would wear something so hideous,” he said, putting the tension in the room at ease.

“Says the guy who wore an ascot,” came Lady’s sharp retort.

“You’re kidding,” said Nero. Vergil frowned.

“It was in style.”

“Tch, yeah, if you’re a douchebag,” said Nico. Vergil sneered, tightening his grip on Yamato before loosening it with a huff.

“And yet here you are, stealing Dante’s clothes and dressing up like buffoons,” he said, chin held high. He turned on his heel, ready to leave them to their childish games when Lady intercepted him at the door, hip cocked and leaning against the frame.

“What’s the rush? Thought you liked messing with him. Not like you to pass up an opportunity.” Vergil opened his mouth to reply when Nico cut him off.

“You know V-man, I liked ya better when you were a skinny goth boy. You were funner then.”

He bristled at that, grinding his teeth at the reminder that yes, he was stronger now, but he had gained far more admiration as V than he would as himself, and now they were parading around as his more likeable beloved twin.

He was too wrapped up in the sling of insults and readying the biting words on his tongue to notice the silent communication between the four. By the time he realized his mistake it was too late, Nero slipping past and forcing Yamato out of his grasp with his spectral limbs as Nico and Lady double-teamed him, tackling him to the floor with a lack of strength that he could’ve easily countered if he wasn’t so surprised.

Nico straddled his chest, grinning like the cat that got the canary while Lady squatted by his head with an equally vicious smile.

“Get off me, Nicoletta,” he said.

“Hmm…nah. We’re gonna make you chill the fuck out if we have to drag ya kicking and screaming. There’s one more and it’s calling your name, V-man.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t be a lil’ bitch.”

“I said _no_ ,” he growled.

“If you’re not gonna cooperate, I’ll just strip you naked right here and put you in that tiddy coat myself.”

His eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

She stared him down. Vergil recalled his time as V, memories of Nico driving through walls and hordes of demons, flipping the van with a carelessness and finesse only Dante could rival. She didn’t care that he could destroy her with minimal effort. This woman had no fear.

He looked up at Lady, her dual colored eyes sparkling with wicked delight.

He looked to Nero—Yamato still in his claws—who was watching the proceedings with amusement and a hint of sympathy, knowing all too well the force of nature that was Nico but enjoying his father’s humiliation too much to care. Vergil didn’t need to glance at Trish to know she’d be of no help either.

He weighed the pros and cons, whether the effort of throwing them off him and any collateral damage that would ensue trying to wrest back the Yamato was worth the trouble when Dante found out (and he _would_ find out). If he submitted to their desires, he could be over and done with this debacle in no time at all and forget it ever happened. _Damn devil women_.

His head fell to the floor with a resounding thud. “ _Fine_.”

***

Dante knew something was up as soon as he walked in. The girls were chattering excitedly about god knows what (probably clothes and makeup they bought at his expense _again_ ), but more suspicious was the demonic signatures belonging to Nero and Vergil. Getting Vergil to talk to his own goddamn son was like pulling teeth, and now he was buddy-buddy with the crew? Yeah, calling bullshit on that. Dante set a box of takeout on his desk and trudged upstairs, ready to accept whatever disaster was being thrown at him next.

“See! It’s the spitting image,” came Lady’s voice from down the hall, “all you needed was the hair.”

Then he heard…Vergil? “It’s not the exact same.”

“But you’re identical twins!” said a whiny voice that could only be Nero.

“Not perfectly identical.”

“Nah, he’s right, there’s a lil’ difference,” piped up Nico.

What the hell was going on?

Dante went into his room and was greeted by the sight of Lady, Nero, Nico, and Trish circled around Vergil, bare-chested and dressed in shit Dante hadn’t worn in twenty fucking years. The strap of the coat strained across his pecs and he looked ready to bust out like a too-tight bra on a stripper. His normally spikey updo had flopped into his face, bearing a strong resemblance to how Dante wore his own hair as a rebellious teen.

They paused in their debate. The rest of them, Dante finally noticed, were also wearing his stuff. He blinked in confusion, then broke into a grin.

“Well, well, you guys finally going to admit you dig the look?”

Vergil, who up to this point had seemed relaxed for once in his life, snarled, pushing his hair back into place and tearing off the coat. He chucked it in Dante’s face and picked up Yamato, cheeks pink as he stomped out of the room still wearing the rest of his brother’s things. Dante watched his retreating form then turned back to everyone.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Yep. You ruined it,” sighed Lady, who gathered her clothes and left as well.

Nero shed the coat he was wearing and followed after, scratching his nose and tucking his head to hide his blush. Trish went next, leaving only Nico. She smiled nervously, scuffing her boots against the floor.

“So, uh, I can explain—”

Dante waved her off. “Whatever, it’s fine.” He looked her over, smiling and stroking his scruffy beard. “Besides, looks pretty good on you.”

“Wha—really? You mean it?” asked Nico, trying not to sound like a flustered schoolgirl.

Dante nodded and reached past her into his closet, pulling Faust down from its shelf. He dusted it off and placed it on her head. “See? Perfect.”

She looked in the mirror and smiled, drawing her imaginary pistols while Dante joined in beside her, sweeping on his coat and snapping fingerguns.

She should invade people’s privacy more often.

**Author's Note:**

> DMC fans feel free to hit me up on my twitter @AvianFisticuffs


End file.
